Récrire, an alternate ending to LOVE NEVER DIES
by snh
Summary: This story creates an alternate ending to the musical LOVE NEVER DIES. It opens near the end of the musical and then diverges to a different path. E/C, work in progress, please R/R. Note: Characters belong to Gaston Leroux and ALW.
1. Chapter 1

Erik, Christine, and Madame Giry reached the end of the Midway. On the farthest pier, they saw two figures in the dimness, one who was gesticulating wildly at the water. "Oh no," Christine breathed, clutching Erik's sleeve. They ran toward them.

"Here they come," Meg laughed to herself, scratching the side of her head with the barrel of the gun she'd taken from Erik's studio. She turned it on Gustave, who swallowed hard and backed away from her and closer to the water's edge. "Don't even know who you really are, you unfortunate little bastard," she said to him, pointing the gun at his face. Gustave just stared, tears running down his cheeks, then looked past her to see Christine and the others quickly approaching.

"Mother!" he cried. Meg wheeled away from him to face Christine and Erik.

"Gustave!" Christine slid to a stop behind Erik, who held her back from getting closer. Madame Giry put her hand to her mouth.

"No, stay back! I'm not done yet!" Meg kept her gun raised, pointing it frantically from Erik to Christine.

"Let go of the boy now," Erik hissed as he advanced a small step towards Meg, his eyes never leaving hers. Behind him, Christine kept herself focused on trying to keep Gustave calm. "It's alright, Gustave."

Meg trained the gun back to Gustave and gave him a shove towards the water. Gustave, Christine, and Madame Giry all screamed. "STOP!" Erik yelled. "Please," he said quieter, his voice growing frantic.

"And this is how I get your attention?" Meg screeched, her voice shaking. "Years of offering myself to you, and this is what actually does it for you?" Her eyes teared up. "Has my mother ever even told you what we did to get you here? What I did?"

Madame Giry finally spoke. "Meg, no, please."

Meg continued, ignoring her mother's pleas. "Do you think people allowed you to start this life here without consequences?" She laughed, pointing the gun at Erik. "You?! A freak? Of course not. There are debts to be paid."

Erik, seeing an opportunity for Gustave to safely run while Meg was focused on him, shifted his gaze to Gustave's. Meg noticed this and grabbed Gustave's arm. He squealed. Christine nearly went over Erik's shoulder trying to get to Gustave., but he held her tightly..

"What are you saying," Erik asked, confused.

Meg laughed. "While you were down in your dungeon playing fantasy, I was up here in the daylight spreading my legs—"

Madame Giry started sobbing, loudly. "Meg, Meg…" she trailed off.

Meg continued, her gaze now fixed in the distance. "So many people to please, so many hurdles to jump through and fall over and I took it again and again and again. For you."

"I'm sorry," Erik said, desperately searching for the right words, his heart pounding. "Meg, I didn't know." He paused. "Please, let's talk this out away from him," he said almost in a whisper. He began walking towards her, both palms raised to Meg. "Meg, please, give me the gun."

Meg's face seemed to brighten as if she was again self-aware and she glanced around and then down at her hands and the gun. She made a disgusted face, and then began to cry as her shoulders sagged.

"Christine," Erik quietly whispered, motioning with his head to get her to slowly begin towards Gustave.

Meg's head shot up. "Christine?" She raised her gun at her and laughed. "Christine. Always Christine!"

Erik jumped towards Meg from a standstill position. As they fell into the murky water, the gun went off, its shot crackling across the waves lapping the underside of the pier.


	2. Chapter 2

The water rushed around Erik as he and Meg tumbled together deeply into the icy darkness. For an instant he thought of the beach tourists who, in their awkward striped swimming accouterments, bravely ventured into the surf each day not 50 yards from where he now swam. Erik was then brought back to the present as Meg's elbow, flailing desperately in slow motion underwater, made contact sharply with his right temple. He screamed hollowly in the water and felt his mask slide down his cheek and into the abyss they hovered above. Recovering, he then turned, arms outstretched, feeling blindly for Meg. He searched wide-eyed and helpless in the gloom, fingers finding nothing, nothing, and then there! His hands were suddenly tangled in her hair. He leaned downwards to warily grasp her by the shoulders, unsure as to whether she still had the gun. He then realized that Meg was no longer fighting, but seemingly still and resigned. His hands searched hers, but found no gun. Running out of breath, Erik grabbed her by the arm and began swimming towards what he thought was the night above them. After several fierce seconds of kicking his legs and trying to progress using his one free hand, Erik was met with a colder, stronger current, and realized they were heading away from the surface, not towards it. After much effort, they began their ascent. Moments later they broke the water's surface.

"Meg! Is she alright?"

"Mother, there he is!"

"Thank God…"

Three familiar voices tangled together as Erik gasped for his first full breath of air. There were other voices too, and more accumulating as footsteps thudded down the pier towards them. The gunshot had attracted quite the crowd.

"We're alright," Erik shouted to the crowd as he kicked through the choppy water and propelled them towards the pier. The shore was a hundred yards away, and he was suddenly exhausted from fighting the incoming tide. Several pairs of hands appeared around him and suddenly he and Meg were being hoisted out of the water.

They landed in a soggy wet jumble on the wooden beams of the pier deck. Erik instantly stood, his hand instinctively flying up to cup the exposed half of his face. Embarrassed, he turned and thanked the men who had helped them. One of them clapped him on the back. "Shot missed us all, mate."

Madame Giry had rushed in past Erik and was cradling a half conscious Meg in her arms, sobbing quietly as she whispered soothingly to her in French. Erik turned away from them, his eyes scanning the crowd for Christine.

She was kneeling next to Gustave, her back to the crowd as her hands cupped his red, swollen little face. Erik's breath caught in his throat audibly. He had not known the outcome of the rogue gunshot, and was relieved to find them both safe. He walked towards them, ignoring questions from passerby as he approached. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw police approaching.

Erik knelt down beside Christine. Her attention remained on Gustave, but he felt her looking at him from the corner of her eye. It was darker here, and Erik finally lowered his hand from his face. In the shadows, he reached out and grasped Gustave by shoulder. "Are you alright, little friend," he asked him, squeezing him gently.

Gustave nodded and sniffed. "Thank you for saving me."

Erik chuckled. "You were very brave, Gustave. You gave me courage to do it." There was an awkward pause, and he turned to Christine.

"Are you alright," he asked her.

Her eyes were shimmering as she tried not to cry. She nodded, and was about to say something when someone spoke behind them.

"Sir." Two police officers stood behind them, waiting. "Sorry for the interruption, but we'd like to speak with you about what happened tonight."

"Of course," Erik nodded, and pulled himself away from Christine and Gustave. He stood, but fought the urge to protect his face again. "Anything I can do to help, gentleman. But first, could you please excuse me? I'd like to see that my guests are taken home safely."

* * *

It was almost midnight before Gustave finally fell asleep. Christine stayed with him in his room, stroking his hair as she hummed a lullaby softly. After some time, she stood quietly and headed into the parlor. She started to sit, but stood again and began to pace. It had been a long, frightful night, and her thoughts jumbled together as she relived it all.

Her heart went out to Meg, and she wondered what would happen to her. As Erik had led them away from the commotion on the pier, she looked back over her shoulder and saw a dazed Meg being escorted quietly away by two men. Madame Giry followed closely behind, her hands clasped violently around the arm of an officer as she continued to sob unabashedly.

Erik. He had escorted them to the hotel himself. He stayed long enough to make sure they were secure in the hotel suite, then left to go back to the pier and the police. He promised her quietly that he would return. "Later," he'd assured her, although she was unclear if that meant tonight or not.

There was a knock at the door. Christine's heart clapped within her as she went to answer it. Erik stood now masked and wearing fresh clothes. He smiled softly at her.

"Good evening," he said quietly, bowing with his head.

Christine laughed in spite of herself, her heart pounding. "Good evening!" She then caught herself, realizing that neighboring guests might be listening. "Please," she lowered her voice, "come inside."

She closed the door and turned to face him. Their eyes met and he held his hand out for hers. She hesitated momentarily and then reached out her hand to him, then held her breath as he kissed it.

"He sleeps?" Erik whispered, tilting his head toward Gustave's bedroom door. Christine nodded and swallowed. Her hand was still clasped between both of his, and she fought the urge to step towards him. Instead she motioned for him to follow her to Gustave's door, and, after pulling it halfway closed, led Erik to the parlor where they both sat.

"I will not stay long, Christine. I just wanted to make sure you and the boy were both alright."

She smiled. "He's alright. After you left he had a bath and some supper. He did not say much. He wanted to know where his father was. I didn't know what to say."

Erik waited for her to continue, but instead she looked at him. "What happened after we left?"

Erik released her hand. "The police took Meg to a hospital. She'll stay there tonight. Giry is with her."

"What will happen to them?"

"I do not know the legal course of action for Meg's crimes, but…I will learn what I can tomorrow. I then went to the police station and told them what I could."

"Did the police ask many questions about us?"

"They wished to speak to you and Gustave, but I intervened as best I could. Tomorrow they will return."

Christine was silent but nodded, her eyes filling suddenly with tears. "Thank you. Thank you so much for what you did."

"Shh," he said, shaking his head. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "All I am for him, all I am for you. Always."

Christine took his hand in hers and kissed it. Erik inhaled sharply and straightened. "Must you go?" she whispered. "Of course, yes, you have to. What would Gustave say if he woke to find that Mr. Y had slept on the settee?"

Erik laughed, and his fingers entwined with hers. "A lovely idea, I think, but perhaps another time. I've brought so much upon you both already that I should go. But I will see you tomorrow?"

"Yes," she said. _And the day after that_, she thought. They stood and she walked with him to the door.

"If you need me tonight, I will not be far," Erik said, looking down at her. "I promise."

Christine nodded. "Goodnight," she said, her cheeks suddenly burning as she smiled.

Erik nodded, kissed her hand again, and then was gone.

Christine closed the door behind him, then leaned against it, feeling manic and melancholy all at once. Fatigue fell upon her shoulders and she headed off to prepare for bed. A few minutes later she returned to extinguish the lamps and check the lock on the door.

She then thought of Raoul, who she guessed was by now sleeping soundly on a ship bound for Europe. She wasn't sure how to react to his sudden absence, and thought suddenly of his letter. She went to check on Gustave one final time, then went to the desk where she'd hastily hidden it away. She removed it from the desk, then padded quietly to her bedroom.

Once she was in bed, Christine opened the envelope. She pulled out Raoul's letter, but was surprised when a second page slipped out and fell to the floor. Christine set down her letter and reached down for the second page and began pulling the fold open. Although it was also written in Raoul's slanted scrawl, it stopped abruptly after only a few short lines and was unsigned. Christine began to read:

_Sir,_

_Per the terms of our agreement, I leave here tonight without Christine or the child. What a fool I was to gamble away two such precious people to you. But you have won on your rules, and so I give them both to your care and shall not return so long as they remain safe under your watch. I charge you to take better care of them than I did. Somehow I know that you will._

_Agreement?_ Christine's brow furrowed as she sat up, tense and in thought. She knew this letter was intended for Erik, but couldn't understand what Raoul meant by gambling them away. She couldn't make sense of it, and finally fell back against the pillows, frustrated. As she drifted off to sleep, she promised that she would ask Erik about it the next morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Daylight brought fog and chill, and as Christine stirred she could hear rain tapping faintly against the window seat in her bedroom. She turned onto her side and instinctively reached for Raoul. It was not unusual for him to not be there, but when her fingers found only his pillow, she sat up suddenly and called for him in a confused voice, blinking away sleep as she looked blearily around the unfamiliar room. She saw her steamer trunk tucked neatly into the far corner of the room and suddenly remembered where she was. She leaned forward in the bed, straining to hear if Gustave was awake. After a few moments of silence, her shoulders relaxed.

Yesterday she'd also awoken alone, but Raoul had eventually come in smelling strangely of whiskey and coffee. Today he would not return. She felt a pang of loneliness, and it was only then that she allowed herself to think of Erik and the events that had unfolded over the past few days. Unknowingly being drawn back to him, singing his new work and her opening night's success, the emptiness that Raoul's leaving brought her, and then the sheer terror of almost losing her son to Meg, whom she had not seen in over a decade. Seeing Erik, also after more than a decade, and last night…

Christine suddenly shook her head at herself, feeling guilty for not tending to her son. She anxiously began to dress as she continued to dwell in her distractions. When she opened the door of her room, she immediately heard him humming to himself. "Gustave," she called down the hallway. She rounded the corner and found him in his room, fully dressed, legs swinging back and forth over the side of the bed as he flipped through the pages of a storybook.

"Good morning, mother," he said solemnly.

Christine approached him cautiously, kissed his head, and sat down next to him. "Look at you already dressed up for the day!" She smiled at him.

The boy smiled back grimly.

Christine smoothed his hair and pulled him closer to her. Gustave put his arms around her waist and leaned against her.

"Did you sleep well" she asked him.

"Yes," he answered. "I didn't have the dream about drowning again."

Christine bristled as she thought of Meg, and glanced down at her son's small frame in her arms. "Do you want to talk about what happened last night?"

"I don't understand why she was so angry with me," Gustave said, his pale brow wrinkling as he pulled away to look up at her. Christine fought the urge to smile. It was moments like these when he reminded her so much of Erik. She shook her head softly at him.

"She…wanted to sing the song I performed last night and was jealous, and she decided to punish me by taking you."

"Oh," he said. "Will she be back?"

"I do not think so," Christine said. "Do not worry. I will keep you safe, I promise."

Gustave nodded, was quiet for a moment, and then brightened. "May we go to breakfast now?"

Christine hesitated and realized she hadn't even thought of that. In the short time she'd been here she'd learned that Americans preferred to take their meals in public salons when staying in a hotel. Raoul, in recent years, had become more and more of a private person, and this had caused enough friction between them that she had spent many of her meals alone downstairs with Gustave. She winced at the thought of sitting amongst a hundred people who had by now surely heard of the previous night's events.

"Perhaps," she said carefully, "it would be more fun if we ate here, hmm? A morning picnic just for us?"

He considered this idea and finally nodded vigorously. "Alright!"

Christine caught a hotel attendant passing outside their door and requested that breakfast be sent to the room. A short while later their meal arrived by way of a butler dressed in an over starched uniform. He stood holding the tray patiently while Gustave carefully smoothed his bedsheets onto the parlor floor. Christine was quietly urging Gustave to hurry in completing his two makeshift place settings when he finally asked about Raoul.

"Will Father be back in time for breakfast? Should I add another?"

Christine stole a glance at the butler, then hastily thanked him for waiting and took the tray from his hands. After he exited, she turned to her son. "Back from where, Gustave?"

"From wherever it is that he always goes without you, Mother." Gustave sat back on his haunches and looked at her.

"Well," she said as she slowly started down to the floor, the china rattling on the tray, "no, I do not think so." She safely set the tray down and began to place things on the bed sheet. After she finished, they said a short blessing in French and began to eat in silence. She watched Gustave for a few minutes. Finally she spoke. "Actually, your father has returned home, Gustave."

Gustave looked up at her with wide eyes. His mouth worked quickly to finish chewing and he spoke as soon as he could. "Why?"

This Christine did not know how to answer. She had hoped to have more time but now knew there would be none. "We had a disagreement," she finally said. "I displeased him, and he thought it best to leave. We may not see him for a while." _Or ever_, she thought.

"I did something wrong," Gustave said almost to himself.

"It was nothing you did, Gustave," Christine said, her heart aching for him. "I promise you that his leaving was my doing." She then remembered Raoul's letter and the curious note that accompanied it. "At least I think it is. But either way, you did nothing wrong."

Gustave nodded solemnly. "Father didn't like it here? He didn't like Mr. Y?"

Christine responded dryly. "Not very much, no." She hesitated. "Do you miss your father, Gustave?"

He only shrugged. "He hates to play with me."

Christine gently turned his little face to hers. "I don't. We can play today, okay?"

Gustave brightened a bit. "Okay."

"Now, don't you worry. We will be just fine here."

"Are we going home, too?"

"No Gustave, we aren't. For now this is our home. I promised Mr. Y I would stay here and perform several times, remember?"

"Yes."

"Alright," she said as she stood she smoothed the folds of her dress. "Now, what would you like to do today?"

Before Gustave could answer, there was a knock at the door.

* * *

Erik had been awake since dawn. He'd sat up suddenly, completely awake, and had automatically reached for his mask. He began fitting it onto his face and as he quickly stood, blood rushed to his head and his right temple began to throb. In the darkness he winced as he gingerly touched the place where Meg's elbow had made contact the night before. He steadied himself momentarily until the pressure in his head subsided, then left the bedroom. A few minutes later he was immersed in his new composition, his fingers flying from the piano to the organ as he frantically scribbled down notes.

Christine was, of course, on his mind. It took everything within him to continue his work and not stop completely to think of her. He'd left her reluctantly the night before, and remembered again and again the warmth of her skin against his in the brief moments their fingers had intertwined. He wondered if she still slept, her dark curls splayed across the sheets as she breathed in and out softly, exposed and still and at peace as she dreamed.

Gustave was also in his thoughts. The boy, his son.

Erik worked for some time until a quiet voice interrupted him from the doorway. "Sir?"

Although Erik had grown to expect Fleck each morning as he had for the past several months, he found himself irritated at the disruption. He reluctantly pushed himself away from the organ and turned to face her. "Yes? What today?"

Fleck was here for her morning report, and she held her ground, hands clasped behind her back. She began immediately. "As it is Saturday we are to open in two hours. Everything on the grounds appears to be in order."

"Good," Erik said. He turned back to the organ as she continued.

"Rudolph has a rehearsal scheduled for the dancers early this afternoon, however, and wants to know if you would like swing to take Meg's part for tonight?"

"Yes, fine," Erik said briskly. "Tell them to prepare to take over the role entirely. Anything else?"

"Do we expect Christine Daae to return tonight?" she asked. Erik hesitated, so Fleck continued. "For her aria?"

"I believe so, yes," he said hastily, halfway turning to face her. "She and her son have remained here, so I do not anticipate there being a change to her performance schedule."

Fleck paused. "Is the boy alright?"

"You have many questions today, Fleck."

"Yes sir," she said, "everyone wanted to know."

"I believe that he is fine. I saw to it that they were escorted home safely last night." He stopped. "Now if there's nothing else…"

"Yes sir," she said again, and then was gone.

Erik stayed seated for a few moments. Normally he would now go and tour the grounds himself, seeing to it that the park was ready to open. Instead he stood and dressed to go see Christine and Gustave.

The hotel where they were staying was only a few short blocks away and Erik covered the ground quickly. Although he had become more comfortable living among people, heads still turned to look at the man in the mask when Erik stepped beyond the gates of Phantasma, especially in daylight. He entered the hotel and first inquired with the desk staff in the dining room to see if Christine and Gustave had come to breakfast. When he was told they were instead taking their breakfast in their quarters, he headed to their suite.

His heart was racing by the time he reached the door and knocked. Inside he heard a chair scrape against the hardwood floor and footsteps approaching, and then Christine opened the door to greet him. She looked radiant and beautiful and he fought the urge to reach for her. He smiled and waited for her to speak.

"Erik," she said, a guarded smile crossing her face as she held the door open between them. "Hello."

"Christine," he began, "I hope I did not call too early after leaving so late night."

She made a face at him, her eyes pleading an unknown cause. "Not at all. Thank you for bringing us home safely last night. Please," she said as she opened the door wider, "come in."

She shut the door behind him as he entered, and before he could turn to fully face her, she was leading him towards the parlor. "This way, please," she said, several steps ahead of him. Erik's eyes narrowed at her formality. As they entered the parlor, he saw with surprise that they were not alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Seated in the parlor was a small, unassuming man Erik recognized from the police station the night before. He stood immediately and reached out to shake Erik's hand as he stepped towards him.

"Hello sir, I believe we spoke at the station last night after the incident. I'm Arthur Gates," the man said. He seemed completely unconcerned with the fact that Erik was wearing a mask.

"Yes, how nice to see you again, Arthur," Erik said cautiously. "How can I help?"

"Well, I have come to speak with Ms. Daae about what happened." Christine had crossed the room behind Erik and now stood between the two of them, but Erik kept his gaze trained on the man, who continued. "As no formal complaint has been lodged, it is a mere formality for my report." He paused, looking from Erik to Christine with a puzzled expression on his face. "She did not say you were expected, sir."

Erik tensed. He felt maladjusted in ordinary social situations, much less more anxious moments such as these, and was unsure what to say. He looked to Christine. "Well," he tried to stall, "I had thought it might be prudent to--"

"To propose taking Gustave for the morning," Christine interrupted. "Thank you so much for offering," she said as she smiled sweetly at him.

Speechless, Erik looked from her to Benjamin. "Yes, the boy," he said. "I came to take him to see Phantasma so that you may speak with Ms. Daae." He turned toward the hall and shouted nervously. "Gustave!"

Christine reached out and touched Erik gently on the arm to quiet him. "I'll just go get him."

* * *

After they had gone, Christine prepared a full tea service for Mr. Gates in the parlor. She inquired about his trip from the city, and if he had ever visited Coney Island before. She asked all of the right questions, and he provided swift, respectful answers. Mr. Gates was cordial and polite with just the right amount of restrained interest, but when it came time to speak of what had happened with Meg, he showed no remorse for the task.

"Had you met Meg Giry before agreeing to sing at Phantasma?" he asked a few minutes into the conversation.

"Yes."

Gates raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"We grew up together."

"In Paris?" he asked.

It was now Christine's turn to be surprised, but Gates laughed goodheartedly and shook his head at her. "Ms. Daae, you are a world renowned performer. Surely you would not think it strange that I could learn where you came from."

Christine relaxed. "Very well. Yes, we both trained in the girls' chorus of the Opera in Paris together."

Gates frowned and began scribbling in a notebook. "Was she your connection to coming here to sing?"

"Not exactly." She frowned as she quickly thought of a lie. "My husband suggested a change of scenery."

"And I be able to speak with him today?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I would sincerely doubt that," she said as she sipped from her cup of tea.

"And why is that, madam?"

"He has returned to France. Permanently."

The conversation continued.

* * *

Erik spent the day with Gustave showing him the park. He had never been around children before but enjoyed Gustave's endless stream of questions and his unmatched enthusiasm for the things Erik shared with him. He marveled at the boy's gentle nature and although he saw much more of Christine in him than of himself, Erik began, after some hesitation, to allow himself to begin caring for the boy as his own.

When their exploring had come to an end, Erik and Gustave found Christine alone in a small rehearsal room practicing her music at the piano. Erik lightly touched Gustave on the shoulder to stop him from entering the room, and together they watched her from the doorway as she sang. Christine saw them, her eyes brightening as she smiled and continued the song. She closed her eyes as she sang, her dark curls loose around her shoulders as she played. Erik was transfixed by her.

A few minutes later, she finished the aria, and Gustave burst into applause. "That was lovely, mother!" They headed toward her.

"Thank you, Gustave," she said, mimicking a grandiose bow from the waist. "I was just finishing up and was about to return to the hotel before the performance tonight." Gustave plopped down on the piano bench next to her. "Hello darling," she said softly to him. "Did you have a good time?" He nodded as she leaned towards him and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek.

Erik watched carefully a few paces away. "Since he didn't get to see the performance in full last night," he said, "tonight Gustave will be in the audience."

"Alone?" Christine asked, a concerned look coming to her face.

Erik shook his head. "No, it is all arranged. He will sit with Fleck." He paused, a lopsided smirk playing on his lips. "In box five."

Christine raised a eyebrow at Erik, feeling Gustave looking at them both, then broke into a smile.

"With Fleck?" she asked him.

"He will be fine," Erik said soothingly, then lowered his voice. "She will have me to answer to if he is not. Was your chat with the man from the police station alright?"

Christine looked down to Gustave, who was gathering her sheet music. "Perhaps we can talk about it before the performance? Will you come find me after I take Gustave home?"

Erik nodded at her, and began backing out of the room. "I'll see you later, little friend," he said to Gustave, who waved back. Before he could even close the door, he could hear Gustave excitedly relaying the story of their day together to Christine.

* * *

A few hours later Christine was alone in her dressing room pinning up the last of her curls at the vanity when she heard a tapping at the door. She called out a welcome and then turned to see Erik opening the door enough to slip in. He smiled at her as she came towards him. "Hello again," he said as he shut the door behind him.

Christine smiled shyly, overcome with the thrill and terror that being alone with him brought. He had changed into evening clothes, and in the small space smelled of soap and pipe smoke. She touched him tentatively on the forearm in greeting. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course," he said softly. How was the chat with the constable?"

"It was…uncomfortable. I had to tell him that Raoul had gone. It did not seem to make him suspicious of any wrong doing, but it was still embarrassing to discuss with a total stranger."

"I am very sorry for shouting in your home. I am not always at my best in thinking on my feet when faced with social situations."

"Do not think on it," she said. "I'm sure Mr. Gates thought it completely normal for a man in a mask to shout at a woman in a confined space."

"How clever of me to think to take Gustave."

Guilt spread across Christine's face. "I apologize if it put you in a bind."

"Not at all," he said, waving away her apology. "I am only sorry the day could not also have included you."

Christine blushed, embarrassed and flattered at the way he made her feel. She looked up at him, and then gasped as she saw the bruising that had spread beyond the edges of his mask. "My God," she said as she gestured towards it. "Are you alright?"

"I am fine, my dear. A bit of Meg Giry's underwater acrobatic handiwork. My appearance is none the worse for it."

Christine nodded absentmindedly. "I could not get a firm sense of what is happening to Meg and Madame Giry. Do you know?"

Erik shook his head. "I was told that they would be taken care of, but it is my intention to see to it personally."

"I should like to see Meg," Christine said. Her initiative surprised Erik, and he raised an eyebrow behind his mask, ready to caution her, when she changed the subject.

"Did you enjoy your time with Gustave?" she asked.

Erik smirked as he nodded. "Yes," he said plainly. "Thank you for letting me take him. He is quite a boy."

Christine met his eyes. "Of course," she said softly. "He is your son." She blushed again at their closeness.

"Christine," Erik breathed. He reached up and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. She sighed sharply, and he gently touched her lips with trembling fingers, feeling her warm, shaky breath on his skin. He cupped her face in his hands and was trying to work up the courage to kiss her when suddenly she brought her face to his. Her lips seized his and now it was Erik who gasped. He pulled her tightly against himself and caught her gently around the waist. The years that had passed since they last touched melted away and stretched into nothingness as they began to fall deeper and deeper into each other…

Heavy footsteps suddenly approaching the other side of the dressing room door jerked them both back to the present. "Ten minutes, Miss Daae," a voice said from the other side of the door. Christine and Erik both stared at the door, relaxing as they heard the footsteps begin to retreat. They were still in each other's arms. He looked down at her with tenderness in his eyes, his grip warm around her waist.

"I have never forgotten your kiss," she said a little unsteadily. "You have always haunted me."

"No, Christine," he said. "It is you who have haunted me."

"Please don't go," she pleaded to him, still out of breath.

"I'm afraid I must," he said. "But I will shall listen for you tonight and be waiting for you afterwards." They released one another reluctantly, their hands still clasped as he made a motion to take his leave.

"Wait, before you go…" she trailed off as she let go of him to get Raoul's letter off the vanity, then returned to where he stood.

"It's Raoul's letter," she said, gesturing towards the folded envelope.

Erik nodded. "Yes?"

She continued. "Last night after you left I went to reread it."

"Yes?" Erik asked. Uneasiness began to coarse through him.

Christine continued. "This time I found a second page, a letter addressed only to a Sir." After a moment of hesitation, she handed him the page. He began to read.

_Sir,_

_Per the terms of our agreement, I leave here tonight without Christine or the child. What a fool I was to gamble away two such precious people to you. But you have won on your rules, and so I give them both to your care and shall not return so long as they remain safe under your watch. I charge you to take better care of them than I did. Somehow I know that you will._

He recognized immediately that the letter was written for him. He looked up at her.

"What was he talking about, Erik?"

He wanted to lie to her, to spin an elaborate fantasy as he had countless times throughout his life that would convince her of his innocence. Yet he could not. Even as he opened his mouth to speak, he found himself bound to tell her the absolute truth.

"I followed him night before last. I'd noticed that he spent many of his nights out. I found him alone and drunk in a tavern alongside the seashore." He paused, stalling momentarily, then continued. "He was boasting loudly of you and I was inspired to make a wager with him. If he was able to convince you to leave before you sang for me, you would be released and I would leave you alone forever," he said, omitting the part about offering to wipe the family debts away. "If you stayed and sang as you promised me, he would leave you and Gustave here. Alone."

Christine was silent. She stood where she'd been, quite still, an expression of shock and anger on her face.

"How could you?" she sputtered suddenly. "Why?"

"I'm sorry, Christine." Although it pained him to know he had hurt her, Erik continued anxiously. "Please, do not let my foolishness stand between us now that I have you again after so long."

Christine whirled on Erik in anger. "Have me? I am still a married woman, held here only by my obligation – an contractual obligation – to sing for you."

"Christine, please—"

"No!" Her voice grew louder in protest, and she glanced nervously at the dressing room door before advancing towards him. "You are not telling me everything. Raoul is many things, but he is not an aggressor. What did you say to him? How did you provoke him?" She was upon him now, her face inches from his, and Erik could hardly bear the heat of her closeness.

"I asked him to reconsider whether he truly believed Gustave was his son."

Christine slapped him, the clap of her hand against his face echoing in the small room. Instantly she was in tears and turned away from him.

"Christine," he said, reaching for her.

"You had no right to betray us. For 10 years I kept that truth buried within myself!"

"Christine, I beg you," he pleaded.

"Get out," she said quietly, her back still to him.

"Please," he whispered.

"Get out!" She whirled on him, eyes blazing and shimmering through her tears.

Stunned, Erik backed away from her and headed for the door. As his hand reached for the doorknob, she spoke.

"I do not want you here tonight. You are already too impossible to escape in my mind. Please, just leave us both alone."

Crushed, he left her.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. Unfortunately I will not be able to post Chapter 5 for a couple of weeks. Please look for it on or before May 2. There will be a visit to Meg and a possible reconciliation (I even promise it will not end in a cliffhanger).


	5. Chapter 5

Christine walked the final few blocks to her destination slowly, but with purpose. The haze from above illuminated the sea of men in hats and ladies in dark parasols around her. Not since she'd lived in Paris had she seen such foot traffic in the middle of an otherwise average afternoon. It was her first time in Manhattan, and she had decided to come alone.

It had been ten days since she'd had the altercation with Erik. Gustave had proven to be quite averse to not being able to see him. After a week had passed and still Christine had said that he simply was too busy to join them, Gustave had become sullen and withdrawn. Aside from the time he now spent with a tutor each day, he preferred to remain in his room alone or out on the grounds of Phantasma. Christine had made Gustave promise that he would not seek Erik out, and the child had agreed reluctantly.

_Perhaps it has little to do with Erik_, she thought to herself. It had now been nearly two weeks since Raoul's departure, and they had heard nothing from him about his whereabouts or plans. She could not even coerce Gustave into joining her for supper following her performance each evening. Today, however, was Sunday, and the theater would be dark that evening. Perhaps she would be able to coax him out somehow.

She thought suddenly of the day Gustave was born. It had been a difficult delivery, and she'd fought back tears when the doctor had taken Gustave from her so Raoul could see him in the next room. Exhausted, she struggled to maintain her composure in front of the midwife, the same midwife who had delivered Raoul and who had been quite unfeeling towards Christine once the baby had come. With the door ajar to the outer room of their bedroom suite, she overheard a portion of Raoul's conversation with the family physician.

"A baby boy," the doctor boomed.

"That's wonderful," Raoul said tenderly. The baby uttered a single fretful cry and Christine imagined him being handed to Raoul. "We will call him Gustave," she heard Raoul say definitively.

Christine's heart sank. She'd hoped to name him after her father.

"He is healthy?" Raoul asked.

"Healthy as I've ever seen for a baby born several weeks early," the doctor replied.

The midwife was attending Christine at her bedside and suddenly spoke, almost in a whisper. "And so big, almost as if he weren't born early at all."

Christine looked up to the midwife and their eyes met and she instantly realized that she knew the truth: she and Raoul had only been married for seven months and the baby had indeed been born full-term. In the days that followed, the happiness Christine had felt at Gustave's arrival drained away and she prepared for her secret to be revealed, but for whatever reason the woman had apparently never denounced her. Her secret had remained safely kept from Raoul. Until now.

She finally let Erik creep into her mind. She had not seen him since their argument and his absence had formed a constant, uneasy weight in her stomach. She thought of their kiss and how wonderful it had felt to be in his arms again if only for a few brief moments. A chill ran down her spine as she remembered the way his hands felt around her waist and she blushed as she carefully followed the busy sidewalk. Then she remembered the argument she'd had with him and cringed as she mentally relived the last words they'd exchanged. She had been seething, livid even. She was grateful for the space he'd given her (at her request), but in the days that had passed she had wavered somewhere between feeling forgiveness and resentment towards him. The outcome, she mused, was not yet decided.

Christine reached her destination. She squared her shoulders and tried to remain confident as she entered the building, but she found herself wanting to shrink away as she surveyed the stillness around her. An attendant greeted her after some moments and led her to a smaller room. Madame Giry sat in the shadows against the far wall, her posture stiff against the bench where she was waiting. She looked tired as she rose to greet Christine.

"Madame Giry," Christine said in greeting as they leaned in and kissed cheeks. "How are you?" she asked, clasping the older woman's hands.

"I am well, my dear," Madame Giry said through glassy eyes, obviously exhausted. "Thank you for coming. Meg has been asking for you."

"Is she alright?" Christine asked as she surveyed Madame Giry. She looked frail, and her narrow face was the only pinch of color against her drab attire.

Madame Giry nodded. "She is improving, yes. Will you see her today?

"Of course."

An orderly led Christine and Madame Giry down the hall. Christine tensed, worrying that they'd find Meg chained to the floor in a dimly lit dungeon with other patients. Instead, she sighed audibly when the orderly opened a door a few moments later and led them into a small room furnished sparingly but cheerfully. Meg sat with her back to them looking out the window, her blond hair smoothed neatly into a bun.

"Meg?" Madame Giry called to her as she crossed the room quietly, her hands coming to rest on her shoulders. "Christine is here."

Christine stood just inside the room, and she fought the urge to shrink against the doorway as Meg stood. She looked rested, peaceful even. Without her stage makeup she looked much like she had so long ago in Paris. Christine's heart broke for her as she approached her.

"Hello Meg," she said simply.

Meg turned at the sound of her voice and smiled sadly. "Hello," she answered. "Thank you for seeing me. I know it is not an easy trip into the city. Did you come alone?"

"Yes," Christine answered. "Gustave is with his tutor this morning." She regretted mentioning him, but Meg simply shrugged.

"I guess he would prefer to be studying than see me again," she said, smiling grimly.

"Meg," Christine said gently, "don't be so hard on yourself."

"Do you hate me?" Meg asked her.

Christine wanted to stay angry at the woman who had nearly destroyed the most precious thing in her life. But now as she faced her she saw only the girl she once knew, the girl who had through circumstance and fate lost her innocence. She finally shook her head.

"No. Of course not." She took Meg's hand and squeezed it.

Tears came to Meg's eyes, and she began trying to blink them away. Christine instinctively reached for her and they embraced. After a few moments she heard Madame Giry and the orderly quietly slip out of the room, and in the stillness she felt sadness settle around her and the girl that she now held in her arms.

Meg began to grow tired after a short while, and Christine leaned wearily against a hallway wall once she had closed the door behind her. Meg seemed to be in a good place – at least, as good as could be expected. Christine shook her head at herself and her weakness for granting clemency. She had given it to Raoul countless times throughout the course of their marriage, and even to Gustave in his rare moments of disobedience. _If I can pardon Meg, how can I not forgive Erik? _she thought.

She straightened and smoothed her skirt, then began to head down the hall. She found the director of the hospital and after a few pleasantries had been exchanged, she started to address her main reason for having agreed to come in the first place.

"I would like to see to it that Meg is taken care of. As I understand it, this is a private hospital. I would like to ensure that she is able to stay here." She began to reach for her pocketbook.

"Madame, it has already been arranged."

"It has?" Christine stopped and straightened, her brow furrowing.

"Yes Madame, her employer came in early last week and arranged for her care."

Christine shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"It's true," Madame Giry said behind her. Christine turned, not having realized she was there. "Meg stays here under his watch."

"And you?" Christine approached her quickly, her voice low.

Madame Giry smiled sadly. "I am also taken care of. In his own way, he kept his promise, I suppose."

Christine only nodded, unable to speak.

After a moment, Madame Giry reached out and embraced her. "Thank you for coming, my dear. You were, long ago, like a sister to her." She leaned back to take Christine by the shoulders gently. "And a daughter to me."

In spite of the situation, Christine smiled. "Yes."

"Now," Giry said, releasing her. "Go. Be happy."

It was late afternoon when Erik completed his daily walk of the grounds. Mondays the park was closed to the public, and the day off afforded everyone a chance to catch their breath after a seemingly endless weekend barrage of eager tourists.

He assumed the theater remained standing. It was the only building he had not visited in many days. Fleck had been good at updating him on the theater and ticket sales, but he regretted his reliance on her. The night of his argument with Christine he had left Gustave with her several days before so he could speak with Christine, and Fleck had witnessed him making what would become a broken promise to the boy.

"Gustave," Erik had said as he brought him to the front of the house so he could see Christine before the show began. "I believe you have met Miss Fleck."

Gustave had nodded, his eyes large as he surveyed her. "Hello." Fleck had given him a sideswiped smile.

"Fleck is going to take you up to a special box so you can see your mother perform tonight," Erik had said. He sensed the boy's discomfort at the arrangement. "I promise to be waiting here for you when it is over, alright?"

Gustave's face had brightened a little. "Alright!"

Erik, of course, had not been there to meet him after the performance. He had ached to stay and see Christine perform to another sold out house, to again fall under the spell of her voice after so long. Instead he had followed her wishes and left the theater entirely to be alone. Aside from a few things to attend to within the park, he'd remained that way ever since.

Erik pushed all of these things from his mind as he returned to the aerie from the walk, prepared to work for most of the evening. He opened the door and immediately was on alert; something was wrong. He stopped just inside the doorway, listening. The air, the stillness of the room was off. He reached the end of the hallway and turned to enter the main hall cautiously.

Christine stood waiting for him.

Erik stopped in his tracks, shocked at the sight of her. He had traced every curve, every feature of her face in his mind a thousand times in the last few days, but his memory had not truly honored her.

"Hello," he said guardedly.

Christine blushed, obviously uncomfortable in the space. "I'm sorry for entering without an invitation."

"You are always welcome here. I am sorry I haven't been able to show it to you before now."

Christine eyes moved to the space around them. "It seems very familiar," she said with a small smile. There was an awkward pause and they both looked down dumbly at the floor.

"Christine…" Erik finally began.

She held up her hand. "I've only come to ask you one question."

His heart sank as he waited.

"I wondered if you would join me for dinner."

Erik stared at her, dumbfounded.

"Tonight," she continued, her voice softer.

"As you wish," he answered. Their eyes met for a long moment and it took every ounce of control he had not to say more.

"I will see you at the theatre at 8:00." She walked past him and headed toward the door, then turned back. "Goodbye," she said simply and then was gone.

Erik felt as if he were struggling to breathe.


End file.
